


Clay

by Basingstoke



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hasn't abandoned the idea that Superman is an infiltrating force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Te (Teland)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/gifts).



> For Te, because she asked for it.

Superman is a beta in an omega costume. 

Bruce stares at his exposed collarbone, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He's only Bruce, a bored alpha in a high-collared suit, listening to Superman address the Gotham University graduating class. He's not Batman today. He can stare. 

He knows Superman is a beta. He's been near him. He's smelled him. Superman smells as neutral as a child, perfectly virginal. He has a cold, alien scent, like cut granite. 

Diana was made of clay, she says, and still smells of omega womanhood, strong and fertile as his mother's garden beds. Last year's heat left Luthor begging at her feet, promising his kingdom for a touch of her thigh. He only came to his senses after a week in jail. Batman had to wear a mask every time he visited the Watchtower. 

Dick is a beta, and he smells today mostly of liniment. He's sitting beside Bruce in his band-collared shirt, openly paying attention. Superman is a novelty even for the billionaire's heir. Bruce can tell by the way he's sitting that he's on the verge of a quasi-heat, cramps and nausea teasing at his bowels, but Dick is a good soldier and won't let it affect his work. 

Bruce isn't listening. It would be out of character to listen. Instead he looks at Superman's collarbone and wonders if Superman is an omega on his world, or even a female. There must be some reason for that teasing costume. Superman claims it is the native dress of his people, which leads Bruce to wonder (again) why he looks so perfectly human. 

He hasn't abandoned the idea that Superman is an infiltrating force. 

He never will. 

Dick applauds, loudly, joining the crowd around him, and catches Bruce's eye so they both stand together. A standing ovation for the world's hero. Superman waves, briefly, smiles, waves again, and steps back stage so that the mayor can start reading names. The sun glints off the lush folds of his cape. 

*

Dawn. 

He's worked through the night. Batman's armor is put up (and so is Killer Croc, for now). He should sleep. 

He must sleep. It's essential to the work. The sun and birds are silenced by blackout curtains. His arm is bandaged and will seal by the time he wakes. He has done some good. He can sleep. 

The curve of Superman's collarbone is caught in his mind. The low neck of his costume, the cape tucked into his nape, and the arch of his collarbone left naked and exposed. Why? What does it gain him? 

Diana's chest is far more naked, of course, but it suits her, the overwhelming power of her fertile femininity tucked into a warrior's metal armor. Flash wears a functional frictionless (and genderless) bodysuit; Green Arrow and Green Lantern wear high alpha collars that match their status; Shayera is an alien in an feathered suit with a hawk for a head and a sledgehammer in her hand. 

Nothing teases him like Superman's collarbone. 

It can't be Dick's quasi-heat affecting him. Dick is family. He saw all three boys through puberty; none of them affect him, even Jason. He wasn't caught by Dick's nude body when he checked him for injuries earlier that night. 

Damn Kal-El anyway. He exhales, opens his eyes, stares sightlessly into the dark. Sometimes the body interferes with the mission. 

He strips off his undershorts, tossing the garment beside the bed, and takes hold of his penis. It's already firming and thickening in his grasp. 

It's a problematic piece of equipment. Necessary for his disguise; he uses it on the willing participants in Bruce Wayne's lifestyle. He has shared a room full of young omegas with Oliver Queen from time to time. He finds if he takes a male and female omega into his bed at the same time, they are easily led to distract each other. 

But generally he confines himself to betas. They don't want or expect the knot; they don't inflict full heats upon him. He has, in fact, never knotted, and he never wants to. He can usually control himself. 

Superman's neckline, though. The dip of his throat. The tendons just below the skin. The tender conduits of breath. He knows Superman is made of steel, but he looks like the same fragile assembly of blood and bone. 

His knot tautens in his fist, the mechanism awaiting the orifice it was designed for. He has read that alpha knots have evolved in response to omega receptors, and are some million years in design behind the current shape of the sister organ. He wonders if, in a million years, the knot will be wider or smaller, if future alphas will knot betas, or if future omegas will evade the lock. 

He doesn't like to think of Superman's virginal scent. He knows, or he is reasonably sure he knows, that Superman is an adult and sexually active, but the smell of him tells an opposite story. He smells like a mountain stream, not a human. 

He falls back from the edge, thinking of that icy scent, and exhales. He needs to stop or he needs to finish. He cannot have these half measures. 

He licks his palm again and thinks of Superman's thighs, which have nothing of the child about them, and that is enough to finish into his fist. 

Superman is not a viable sexual partner. He wouldn't want to make himself attracted to that sexless scent. He is also, it turns out, an unsatisfactory mental sexual aid, and he will have to block him out of his sexual mind in the future. 

And nudge Superman toward a higher, less provocative collar. 

He turns his cheek into the pillow, and he sleeps.


End file.
